Lost but Not Forgotten
by BadonKaDank
Summary: Max was having a bad day already, but a trip and fall into the woods only makes it suck more. Oh, and David tries to be helpful. OR Max gets hurt and David feels bad. (Dadvid)
1. Chapter 1

So the day had been one clusterfuck after another.

It had started with Neil waking him up with some experiment gone wrong at too-early in the morning. It had only progressed from there until Max had found himself exiled into the woods for something that wasn't even a big deal or even really his fault.

He'd planned on minding his own business. Maybe set something on fire or set up a pit trap for someone (David) to fall into later, when he'd heard the grating voices of the Wood Scouts. In _their _woods- not that he gave a shit whose woods were whose, but it was the principle of the thing, them being in the same part of the woods he was.

They were messing with the stupid mascot again, poking it with sticks and discussing how they were going to capture it and put Camp Campbell to shame. It was kind of hilarious, how stupid they all were, and the yelp one of them let loose when the platypus no doubt bit him made Max cackle. That, naturally, got their attention and soon enough they were demanding he come out and show himself or they would have to resort to "drastic measures."

Sure they would.

But, he'd played along and come out, hands casually shoved into the pocket of his hoodie.

He couldn't even remember what he'd said to make them so pissed —probably just the truth of how pathetic they and their camp was. His usual charming self, basically— but the next thing he knew, Snake was giving him a shove. It wouldn't have been a big deal, had Max not tripped over the platypus and fallen in a way that ended up giving him a bloody nose— he think he hit his face on a low-hanging branch, but honestly, who really cares. The point was that they'd given him a fucking bloody nose and that shit wasn't going to stand. So of course he'd threatened them, telling them their asses were going to be grass if they didn't beat it while he thought up different effective ways to make them shit themselves. It hadn't worked, and even now, Max blamed their lack of fear on the bullshit that was reflex ruining the obviously intimidating display with a cheek of tears in his eyes as his nose continued to drain over his upper lip.

The damn reaction seemed to have emboldened them even, and the next thing he knew, he'd been the one being threatened. Being told he couldn't take all 4 of them on his own, and even if he told on them, nobody would believe him It didn't even matter that they were right, what mattered was that they had the fucking _nerve_ in the first place. But they'd advanced and without thinking, he'd turned and booked it. He wasn't an idiot. He knew when he was in over his head, and even if he would get as good as he got, he didn't want to deal with those morons. It was a tactful retreat.

As he ran, he'd already been planning on ways to make them pay. Ways that involved fire and Nikki's backwards-ass fighting, some weird stink bomb concoction of Neil's, and some poison oak or ivy or whatever the hell David said grew there and was dangerous. Oh, they were going to get back twice as bad as they'd given.

The planning didn't do much to slow the racing of his heart, though he refused to think it was caused by anything other than the running. Cardio had never really been his thing. Neither had navigation in uncharted parts for that matter, and that fact only occurred to him after five minutes had passed and he was still within the forest. The trees didn't seem like they'd thinned out at all. In fact, it seemed they'd gotten closer together since he first started his getaway…

Slowing into a jog and turning every which way to try and get his bearings or find a recognizable landmark proved to be a fruitless endeavor. The whole escape route hadn't been completely pointless, however, because he no longer heard the sounds of pursuit. That meant he only had one problem ahead of him. Well, it wasn't even a problem, honestly. All he'd have to do was catch his breath and turn around and he'd eventually find the camp.

As soon as he began to shorten his pace, however, the ground disappeared beneath his feet and the sensation of weightlessness briefly overtook him before he was falling headfirst into dirt and ferns and… He must have passed out at some point.

One minute he was rolling down a hill, the heat of the sun smacking his face with every clumsy rotation of his body, and the next he was opening his eyes at the bottom of some fucking ditch with the moon smirking down at him.

It had gotten cold. Well, cold for a summer night, anyway. Part of that was probably due to the fact that he'd managed to land in the only area that had a stream running through it, because why the fuck not. The back of his head was a little wet too, even though he was on his side, and when his fingers came returned dark and sticky after touching the area he couldn't help but laugh, because of. Fucking. _Course_ he was bleeding. Why wouldn't he be? When he wasn't getting beat up by stupid asshole Boy Scout wannabes he was getting punched by nature itself.

Well nature could go fuck itself- unlike a certain camp counselor, _he_ wasn't going to.

He wanted to laugh at his own joke but the pulsing in his head that matched the one throughout his body made the sound come out more like a groan. He turned onto his back, then, staring up at the darkening sky with a frown. It looked pretty late out. Even through the canopy of leaves he could stars emerging in the almost inky blackness. If he stared at them long enough they started swirling together, little light blobs that left imprints behind his eyes when he closed them.

It was sort of funny, how dizzy he felt when he was still on the ground.

_Concussions are dangerous, Max. They can cause all sorts of problems, especially with balance and memory- problems Space Kid already has, so don't hit him in the fucking head!_

Gwen's voice popped up randomly in his head and Max's eyes snapped open.

"Oooh, shit!"

His sudden shout caused something in the bushes at the top of the ditch to scurry away and along with the realization that he probably had a concussion there were predators and shit in these woods. Under any other circumstances, he might have laughed at the idea of being hunted by a bear or some shit, but given his current situation, he didn't really want to tempt nature. He had to get up.

It was harder an endeavor than he imagined it would be, his entire body flipping him the bird and screaming all at the same time. Everything hurt. But, in taking stock of the likely injuries he had, he didn't think anything was broken. He remembered what broken bones felt like from that one time he'd cracked his elbow after someone had dared him to do a flip off the swing when it was at its highest point.

Dumbest. Fucking. Idea. Ever.

So nothing felt broken. Still hurt like a bitch, though. His vision swam when he finally got to his feet while his whole head threatened to suddenly explode as the blood rushed to it and a headache hit him. Clutching the bleeding patch hidden within his hair, he looked around to see where he'd ended up. It was a muddy area, a sad little stream running through the middle of the ditch, pooling a little around his feet where he'd made a Max-shaped dent in the earth. The water seeped into his shoes and he cursed, moving away from the muddy spot, ignoring how heavy his entire body felt- seriously, he might as well have been run over by the damn bus or something.

Clearly it had been a hell of a fall.

When he turned his attention to the bitchy hill in question, it was pretty clear what had happened. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see how clearly he'd fucked up. The steep angle, the trail of cracked branches and torn up plants… plus all the mud stains, scrapes, bruises, and whatnot all over his arms and legs and hands (and maybe a little bit of his back too, but who was keeping count?)... yeah, he shouldn't have been running without looking where he was going. Such a fucking rookie mistake- had it been anyone else from camp in his situation he would have been laughing his ass off for that exact reason. Still, it could've been a lot worse.

Could have been a hell of a lot better, too. He _could_ have been back at camp, sitting in his tent and getting some clearly well deserved sleep- he'd saved their mascot! Maybe he hadn't intended to, but he had, and that was what should've really been focused on. But no, instead he was standing there, covered in dirt and leaves and probably animal shit, bleeding, hurting, and completely lost. How the fuck was he supposed to be expected to appreciate nature when it was so frequently kicking his ass?

"Whatever," he grumbled to absolutely nobody, because he was clearly all alone out here.

He bet nobody had even noticed he was gone. Not the campers at least, and certainly not Gwen. David was the only one he sort of wanted to hold out hope for, but Max knew even he was a slim chance, given how pissed he'd seemed with him earlier. And given the fact that it was clearly already pretty late and nobody had found him yet, he had to assume that nobody was going to. Nobody cared.

Nobody ever cared when he disappeared.

(One time, before camp, remembered seeing if his parents would even notice if he went missing. He'd skipped school and hid in his closet all day. The school never called to report his absence.

His parents never looked for him.

They didn't even realize he'd been "gone" until he'd finally gotten fed up with waiting for them after they got back from work. He'd stomped into the kitchen around dinner time to pull some leftovers out of the fridge for himself, and when he'd asked his mom if she knew where he'd been all day, she just shrugged him off and said she didn't have time for his games.

His games.

He'd fucking disappeared on their asses without warning for a whole day and she hadn't had time for "his games.")

A sniffle escaped him and Max growled at the display of weakness, shaking his head and regretting it a second later when the movement made his vision swim uncomfortably. It did make the heat behind his eyes disappear at least, so he decided he didn't mind it so much.

So, nobody was coming for him. Whatever. He didn't need anyone to help him. Fuck everyone.

With a huff, he looked around to see if there was an easier way out of his predicament, but even in the waning light he could knew the only way out was up. That left him glaring at the hillside.

"Well, fuck me."

He grabbed the nearest tree for leverage and began his ascent up the hillside, ignoring the shakiness in his legs and the tiny stab of pain in his wrist when he tugged on a branch to help him climb. _Nothing's broken,_ he reminded himself when his arm started throbbing. He'd probably just sprained it or something, which sucked balls too, but not as badly. The climb took longer than it should have, honestly, and he almost fell over more times then he would ever admit- courtesy of el concussion, no doubt. Thanks again, Mother_fucking_ Nature- but he eventually did reach the top. Of course, by then it was pitch black out, the light of the moon doing very little to light his path. If he had his phone on him he would've been able to check the time, but even without it, he guessed it was most likely around 11 o'clock.

And nobody had come to look for him. He knew David and Gwen were irresponsible but this was bullshit.

Predictable, but still bullshit.

He trudged through the weeds and flowers and every other ugly-ass plant that David insisted were beautiful in their own right, and he couldn't see what he was talking about. They were all just different shades of ugly and green, all belonging to the nature that was currently on his shit list. It didn't help that the longer he walked, the more he realized that he still didn't know where the hell he was. He wanted to hit something, or kick it, but all four of his limbs ached like they never had before- like somebody went and took a fucking mallet to his shoulders and thighs or some shit. He could taste blood in the back of his throat and feel the dried stuff in his nose, and all of this was so fucking stupid!

And of course these goddamn woods were only trying to kick his ass more, apparently not satisfied over how thorough of a job they'd already done. That much was clear when he got tripped up on a root and fell on his hands and knees.

"Shit!" He growled at the offending piece of tree and pushed himself back to his feet. In doing so, he found keeping weight on his left ankle made it burn a little bit.

"Oh my God! Are you fucking kidding me?! This _stupid _fucking camp! Stupid Space Kid! _Fuck_ this! Fuck David! _Augh!_ _**Dammit!**_"

Pulling at his hair in frustration only ended up making his head hurt worse, so he gave that up, shoved his stinging hands into his hoodie and continued on.

The whole day had been a waste. A dumb, pointless waste, and it wasn't even his fault. It was Space Kid's. If that moron hadn't tripped into Nurf in the mess hall, then neither of them would've dropped food all over themselves, and Max wouldn't have felt the impulsive need to shout, "_Food fight! Whoever hits David's dick wins some candy!" _

Yeah. If Space Kid hadn't been such a klutz, then David wouldn't have ended up clocked so much in the groin by the questionable shit they'd been served for dinner, and he wouldn't have gotten all pissed with him and told him to get spend time with nature to cool off and think about what he'd done. Honestly, in the back of his mind he could see how it hadn't been a bad idea on David's part, seeing as they all knew he sure as hell wasn't going to help clean up the mess he'd contributed in creating, but he didn't care about that right now because it was his turn to be pissed off with David. David, who had sent him out here in the first place, and or what? To look at trees and plants, to watch birds fuck and squirrels shit? What was that supposed to teach him?

Was he supposed to view the birds as a metaphor for how fucked he was when he got back to camp? Were the squirrels supposed to remind him that he was a shit? Were the neverending expanses of trees supposed to stand as a comment to how, just like them, he didn't matter, and in the grand scheme of things he was as small and insignificant as the bugs he liked to crush beneath his feet? Because that was all old news to him. Nature couldn't teach him shit about himself that he didn't already know.

Another sniffle escaped him and he scrubbed it and the wetness that had managed to escape onto his cheeks. It didn't really matter if he left it there, seeing as he was completely alone and nobody save himself would know he was upset by any of this horseshit. But still, he didn't want to cry. He wasn't a baby, for fuck's sake.

And when he got back to camp at one in the goddamn morning, he would go into his and Niel's tent, and he would sleep. And when the morning came and nobody bothered to ask him why he looked like shit, or where he'd been all day, he would act like that didn't bother him. When David and Gwen treated him exactly like they did every day, showing him that they hadn't bothered to notice his disappearance either, he would act like he always did, and they would be none the wiser.

"_Max!"_

At first he didn't even register the call, his heavy breathing and pounding in his head drowning out more than he'd thought. But then it came again.

"_Max! _Max, where are you?!"

David.

He sounded distressed as all hell and Max wanted to be amused by that, to laugh at him and make fun of his worry. But all his brain seemed capable of was short circuiting. Because that was David. David was calling for him, which meant David was looking for him, which meant that he'd noticed he was missing.

Someone _had_ come for him. It didn't even matter right then that that someone was _David_.

"Oh Max… _**Max!**_ Are you out here!"

He was running towards his voice before even realizing it. Or, he would have been if his legs hadn't decided that moment would be the opportune time to give out. The relief flooding his system had the adrenaline and panic wearing off, because fuck his life, and he leaned against the nearest tree so he didn't look completely pathetic when David found him.

"Over here!"

"Max?"

He couldn't help but roll his eyes, because who else would it be?

"No, it's bigfoot!"

"Oh, thank goodness!"

The sound of underbrush being crunched rapidly grew closer and louder and faint light became brighter, and Max felt a soft laugh bubbling up in his throat. Someone was coming for him. He didn't have to wander around in the dark on his own, or pretend he wasn't hurt or… or any of that.

"Max!"

He had exactly half a second to appreciate David's presence before his lanky arms were wrapping around him and aggravating every bruise on his body as they squeezed him almost painfully tight. Before he could even think about pushing him away Max heard sniffling that signalled David was crying… into his hair, where his face was currently buried. Great. Nice and disgusting.

"You scared the dickens out of me, Max! I thought we'd lost you," David was blubbering, "I'm so glad you're okay! You could have gotten hurt out here- don't ever scare me like that again! Augh, I'm so glad you're okay."

Okay was a relative term, and Max wanted to snap at him how it was bold to assume he _hadn't _been hurt- and didn't he have eyes to see that he was? Or was he blind as well as stupid? And why did he have to be so emotional all the time? It was making the whole thing weird and uncomfortable.

"Yeah, whatever," he mumbled from where his face was pressed against David's ascot/scarf/thing while maneuvering his arms between them to try and push the counselor away.

He was reminded then of his probably-sprained wrist and his muffled curse still managed to echo around them. It did the trick, at least, because David pulled away and- oh gross, his eyes were puffy and he had snot running _and that's just not cool David_. However, it also brought attention to the fact that something was wrong.

"Max? What's wrong?"

He opened his mouth to tell him that he was fine, and _can we just get back to camp so we can pretend this never happened_, but nothing came out and his felt his throat tightening. But fuck that, he refused to show any kind of emotional response that would encourage more hugging, so instead of trying to speak and tip the counselor off to his rattled state, he shrugged.

"Max, what happened?" He sounded worried and Max rolled his eyes.

Yeah, David, that's a great question. What did happen? He'd practically banned him from camp, yet he was surprised something went to shit? Honestly, every time Max thought the guy had reached pique dumbass he went and proved him wrong.

It frustrated him enough that he was able to swallow the lump in his throat. "Nature walks are the the dumbest fucking thing ever invented and if you ever try to make me go on one I _will _murder you."

David's face contorted and Max couldn't figure out if it was in concern or if he was trying to hold back a laugh. Knowing David, it was the former. _Good_. He should be worried. What kind of adult sends a kid into the woods for hours without a cell phone?

Well, never mind, actually. Campbell had been the one to teach him, after all, so that was probably a normal punishment.

"Don't worry," David finally said after the silence started hedging into awkward territory, "that's not going to happen."

When David stood up, Max followed him, trying to hide his limp as best he could. Of course, that didn't stop David from noticing and a second later he felt a hand on his shoulder to halt his movements.

"Hold up there, Max. You're hurt."

"No shit, Sherlock!" David looked wounded by the shout and Max wasn't done. He was wet and cold and in pain and it was all David's fault anyway. "That's what happens when you send someone who doesn't know shit about wilderness out into the wilderness! What'd you expect? That I'd run around and come back wanting to hump a tree?! That's your deal, not mine!"

He wasn't sure if it was his tree fucking comment or the general statement that had David cringing, but either way Max felt the slightest bit satisfied for making him feel bad about what had happened.

"I get it, Max. And you're right. I should have calmed down and talked with you instead of sending you out here. That was irresponsible and... I'm sorry." He sighed while his shoulders sagged in defeat. And yet, he sounded so calm and collected, it made Max wanted to punch him. It wasn't fair, how he could always keep his head after being made into an emotional punching bag. How he could be so rational and nice when he'd just been railed by an asshole kid? It made it _really_ hard to enjoy yelling at him.

It also made him feel like the biggest douchebag in existence every single time David did it, so Max wasn't sure why he kept allowing them to get into positions where that sort of thing happened, but there they were again. David being all remorseful and Max feeling like shit even though he should have every right to keep being pissed of with the counselor.

Adults weren't supposed to be like that, though. They certainly weren't supposed to apologize. They were supposed to lecture you about why you were wrong and they were always right. David wasn't like that, though, no matter how many times he had his buttons pushed, and Max couldn't figure out what his deal was, which only made him feel worse every time he fucked up.

Apparently his silence was taken as rejection, because a second later, David was sighing sadly again and bending back down to be at eye level. Max didn't meet his gaze.

"Look, I get that you're mad, but the fact of the matter is that you _are _hurt. I don't want you walking all the way back to camp when we don't know how bad your leg is, okay? So… c'mon, get on."

Max did look up at him, then, blinking owlishly as David motioned towards his back.

Did he… was he seriously trying to give him a piggyback? _Holy shit_, that was weird.

But he knew David wasn't wrong: he couldn't walk all the way back to camp- or rather, he shouldn't. He was definitely capable of doing it. But… if David was offering…

He grabbed onto David's shoulders and let himself be hoisted up and held onto his neck like a lifeline even though his legs were securely held in place and he wasn't going anywhere. David looked at him from the corner of his eye and offered him a smile. Max huffed.

"I don't want this ever getting back to anyone."

He could feel David's chuckle against his chest and that was fucking weird. "Okay, Max."

"I'm serious," he warned while tightening his hold to choke David just the slightest bit, "If anyone finds out, I will end you and burn down this camp."

David laughed softly again and Max got the impression that his threats weren't being taken seriously despite the fact that they both knew he could do it. Still, the reply he got was enough to appease him.

"Your secret's safe with me."

For some reason those words in particular felt heavy, and Max decided not to think about how David was probably talking about more than this particular secret. No, of course he was doing the dumb "caring David" thing, where he wanted to remind him that it was totally safe to talk to him about anything.

Whatever, he wasn't going to tell him what happened. Nobody needed to know about that. Still, a small part of him did find it nice, that he knew he could trust David to not go spilling something if he told him not to.

As they made their way back, David said nothing, except to occasionally ask if he was doing alright. At some point, Max stopped answering. As the pounding in his head eased up and the warmth from David's back seeped in, the bumpiness of the walk became rhythmic and Max felt his eyes growing heavier with each passing second.

Yeah, nobody could find out about this. But he could let himself have it, if only for a few more minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

The walk back to camp was only about ten minutes or so, but in that short time David had to jostle Max awake several times. Of course, doing so earned him a few shouts of irritation, but it was a small price to pay to ensure Max's safety in the event that he'd hurt his head. After all, it had been a little hard to miss the dirt on his camper's face. He understood it was late, and that Max probably was just tired for that reason alone, but he couldn't risk it until he had all the facts of his condition.

So when he brought them into the main office, taking care not to disturb the rest of the camp, and set Max down, the first thing out of his mouth was the question that Max had so expertly avoided answering the first time around.

"What happened, Max?"

It was obvious now, in proper lighting, that Max was undoubtedly a lot more hurt than he was letting on. Not including the limp he'd noticed earlier, Max's face was caked in dried mud, as was his hair, and he caught a glimpse of all the little scratches on his hands before he'd shoved them into his hoodie… the hoodie that Max took immaculate care of that now had a tear in one of the sleeves. It didn't seem like Max had noticed that yet. David wondered if he'd be able to clean and patch up the filthy thing without the child getting upset. Unlikely, but he'd have to give it a shot later.

For now, he waited to hear what Max was going to say. Of course, the reply was appropriately Max-ish.

"Nature fucked me, obviously."

He winced at his choice in words. Sometimes he wondered if Max actually understood the meaning behind some of the things he said. Given how bright of a kid he was, David had to assume the answer was yes, but he liked to hold out hope for ignorance sometimes.

"Look, it doesn't really matter what happened. Just forget it and let me sleep, David. It doesn't fucking matter."

He wasn't looking at him, glaring somewhere off to the side while his brows kept pitching up and coming back down harder each time. From what he understood after spending so much time with the kid, it was a typical Max reaction when he was uncomfortable but didn't know what to do. It was like he was confused and then angry about being confused. He supposed he could remember feeling that way sometimes when he was a young camper, and he knew in those moments what it felt like to want to be left alone. But he couldn't do that, not when Max was clearly injured and it was somewhat his fault.

"It _does_ matter, Max. You're hurt."

Max looked up at him then and even though they were hidden, he knew his hands were curled into fists inside that pocket. "Who gives a shit? People get hurt at this fucking camp every day."

"Language, Max," he said on reflex and regretted it immediately when Max seemed to retract further into himself while spitting his retort.

"Bite me, David."

He sighed, tired and heavy and contemplative. He couldn't let Max go without checking up on the extent of his injuries further -he'd taken that first-aid class _very _seriously- but he also knew Max wouldn't let him anywhere near him while he was wound up like this.

(He had some theories on why that might have been such an issue… but he tried to leave the psychoanalyzing to Gwen, since she knew a lot more about those sorts of things.)

As of right now, Max was making this a battle and he was losing. He couldn't even blame Max for his anger, either, because his being irresponsible had been what put him in harm's way in the first place.

In the brief moment of silence where he tried to figure out what to do, Max ended up providing him an opportunity to at least help him a little bit when he made a face and picked some of the dried dirt off his face.

Right, he was filthy.

"I've got an idea."

An eye roll. "Oh boy."

"Why don't you take a shower in Gwen and my bathroom. You need to get cleaned off or you could get a serious infection."

"Bold of you to assume I don't wanna die."

He knew he was joking. He knew it was some weird generational humor (he'd heard Ered say something similar a few days ago). It didn't change the way all his organs clenched painfully and he was left with the urge to scoop Max up and beg him to never say something like that again.

It was just a joke. It was only a joke. Max wasn't serious… probably.

His laugh was too strained and they both knew it, but before the moment could become any more awkward, Max demanded to know where the hell this -apparently secret- bathroom was. As soon as he was out of sight, David began rushing around the cabin, gathering bandages and antiseptic and ibuprofen (from Gwen's desk) and everything else he could think of. Now that Max couldn't see him, he allowed himself a moment to feel terribly guilty about what happened.

His hands shook as he put the last of the first-aid supplies on the desk and he leaned his entire weight against the piece of furniture so he didn't fall over.

He had seriously thought he'd lost him.

When he had gathered the other campers and told them he wanted to try and learn some instruments for campfire songs, and nothing besides the usual groans from those who weren't musically inclined interrupted him, he'd gotten a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, but he hadn't worried too much. It wasn't until bedtime, when Max still hadn't shown up that the nagging had started blooming into worry. Gwen had told him to calm down, because Max had probably just decided to go to the Island in order to freak him out.

"_You worry way too much about him, David. He's a little shit, but he's a smart little shit. I'm sure he's fine and just trying to screw with you." _

But when 22:00 rolled around and Max still hadn't come back, that worry had become panic and he'd taken off into the woods without bothering to tell Gwen, who had probably fallen asleep by that point if she hadn't become too engrossed in her smut books.

He'd been so afraid. So, so afraid that he'd lost Max. That Max had become the next Jasper, and even though he knew he was safe now, he couldn't stop feeling nauseous. Because what if Max _hadn't_ been okay? What if he hadn't found him?

He'd sent a child out into the woods without so much as a flashlight or whistle or something, just in case. What kind of camp counselor was he, forgetting something like that? How could he have allowed himself to get so angry that he did something so… so not David?

The kids' words from a few days ago, when they'd stated that he and Max were rubbing off on one another, came back to him and suddenly felt painfully accurate. He couldn't have imagined losing his temper like that at the beginning of the Summer, but now…

Jeez, what kind of person was he becoming?

The sound of running water faded out around then and David sighed, pushing himself away from the desk and going over to the storage closet where they kept spare shirts. They were ones for the counselors, which Max would just have to be okay with until he could get the key to the storage shed from Quartermaster for a new yellow one. Unfortunately Max would be stuck with his dirty pants. David was hoping he could convince him to ditch the hoodie long enough for him to stitch and wash it.

The muffled sound of something clattering came from behind the door and David heard a string of curses.

"Max? Are you okay in there."

There was no reply so he knocked on the door, just more soft utterances of "Fuck. Fucking dammit," followed by the sound of something being thrown into the door. It made him jump, unexpected as it was, but David recovered quickly and tried knocking again. Max answered then, tone frustrated as ever.

"What do you want?"

"I've got a clean shirt for you."

"Fine." The door opened and Max's little hand darted out to grab the material so fast that David almost didn't register it until the door was closing in his face again.

When Max emerged David had to put a hand over his mouth to hide his smile, because the image of Max in a shirt many sizes too big for him was more than a little bit precious. It made him look like the child he actually was. However, upon seeing the upset look on Max's face and following his eyes down to the blue fabric being dragged across the floor, his smile disappeared. Yeah, he assumed that would be a problem.

"I can fix that, Max."

"Whatever," Max shook his head, but David knew it wasn't 'whatever' because Max handed the clothing over to him without another word. No mocking him for the "lady" skill or anything like that.

It was a bit odd, having Max this quiet, this subdued. He sincerely hoped his silence wasn't brought on by fear of being sent back outside again. _He_ for one had learned his lesson and was never going to send another camper out on their own again.

All that thinking had him momentarily forgetting his main mission, and when Max tried walking -or rather, limping past him, saying something about how he was going to go to bed now, David put a hand on his shoulder.

"Whoa whoa, slow down there, kiddo." Max glared at him and David was relieved to see a return of the familiar expression, but it was a short-lived feeling when he saw the long cut beneath his right eye slightly swollen around the edges and definitely bruised.

"Oh, Max…"

"It's just some bruises and shit, David, relax."

He shrugged him off, trying to cover up a wince and that was it. Without taking into account the potential future repercussions, David grabbed Max beneath his arms and plopped him into the chair where the first-aid was set up.

"David, what the hell?!" Max slapped at him before something about the action caused him to hiss and hold his left arm close to his chest. He remembered a similar reaction when he'd found him in the forest and Max had tried pushing him away.

"Max, like it or not, you're obviously in pain and by golly I am going to help you, so hold still."

He hadn't meant to say it so forcefully, honest. He supposed his worry was getting the better of him. He swallowed and went to apologize for the tone, but stopped when he saw that Max was listening to him again with a muttered, "Fine. Just get it over with."

Not needing to be told twice, David leapt into action, needing to do something with his hands so he didn't keep fretting over the boy, something he knew would make Max run out of there, limp be darned.

The first thing he saw to was the most obvious. Max's brows twitched when he swiped cold neosporin across the cut on his face and then proceeded to take the appropriate sized bandaid out to place over it. He was surprisingly quiet during the whole process, actually. It was something David noted with more than a little bit of surprise as he finished up covering the nasty red and white scrapes on his hands and arms. Granted, he'd never seen Max hurt like this, but he'd been expecting more complaining, more insults- certainly more eyerolls and comments how he was such a pus… well, that word.

When all the superficial stuff was done, he held onto the arm that had been giving Max trouble. It didn't look swollen. He poked lightly at the skin just in case, and it was then that Max finally spoke up.

"Wrist, moron."

"Ah, okay." He wasn't going to react. It wasn't that personal. By that point he was able to recognize as much, so he pretended Max hadn't said anything rude and continued prodding, this time around the area he'd been directed toward. It was the slightest bit puffy, now that he gave it a proper look.

"Does any of this hurt?" He wrapped his hand around Max's wrist and gave it a light squeeze. Max shrugged.

"Max, please cooperate."

He scoffed. "_No,_ it doesn't hurt."

Nodding, he moved on, slowly rotating his wrist. Nothing. Side to side movement caused the smallest twitch of what David assumed with discomfort on Max's face, but he said nothing. Moving it up and down brought out a slightly stronger result.

"Okay, last thing." Without warning, he pushed on Max's open palm. That garnered about the reaction he expected.

"Fuck you!" Max snatched his hand back and David grimaced.

"Sorry, I had to see how you responded to pressure." Max kept glaring at him and he sighed. He couldn't blame him for being mad. He'd sprained his own wrist once or twice in his life, and it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience.

"Let me just wrap it up for you. It'll help." He dug through his supplies and pulled out their only ace bandage and Max rolled his eyes, uttering yet another "whatever," as he wound the fabric around his wrist.

He wanted to badly to ask what happened to have put him in such a beat up state, but he already knew Max wasn't going to tell him. He'd been pretty adamantly opposed from the first moment he'd been asked. Still…

"What are you staring at now?"

Max's growl was strained to his ears, not that David couldn't understand why. As much as he hated to show it, he knew Max was hurting. That fact had the guilt coming back in full force and David sighed. It was a pathetic sound and they both knew it. Max didn't point it out this time, though possibly only because in that moment David was reaching for the pain medication and pulling out a single pill for him.

"I _am_ sorry, Max."

He snatched the medicine out of his hand and swallowed it without water before offering another shrug. "Okay."

It was a good thing he never expected Max to verbally offer forgiveness and had started picking out the little things that meant he wasn't so angry anymore. For this particular instance, it was the shallow smirk he wore. It may have been a normal Max face, but normal wasn't something he did unless they were all good. At least that's what he'd come to take from certain looks during their interactions.

The familiar expression sent the smallest wave of relief through him and David dropped his hand onto Max's head to ruffle his hair. He didn't get far into that before he felt a small lump beneath his fingers and Max was slapping his hand away, another small wince affixed on his face.

Oh no. He _had_ hit his head.

He slumped against the desk, another heavy sigh escaping him. Great. He'd been thinking they could finish up and he could let Max sleep like he clearly wanted to and had nearly forgotten about potential concussions.

"Max, tell me something: do you feel dizzy?"

"Why?" He was eyeing him suspiciously again and David suppressed a yawn with another sigh.

"Yes or no, Max."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Are you tired?"

"Duh. _Why?_"

Well, whether he would tell him what happened or not didn't matter much now, because David had a pretty good hunch that it involved falling. Whether it was a long distance fall or simply a fall into something hard didn't matter. He also knew that neither of them were going to be sleeping for quite awhile.

He rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. "Look Max, if you're not comfortable with telling me what happened, I'm not going to make you. But you can't leave."

"What?" Max blinked and tilted his head and David wondered if he should add confusion to the symptom list.

"The likelihood that you have a concussion is pretty high, Max. I can't risk letting you sleep. I don't want you hurt any more than you already are."

He'd already had enough scares and thoughts of close calls tonight. He would never forgive himself if Max became another statistic in the camp's long history of… accidents.

"Why do you care so much? It's not like it would've been your fault." He sounded like he was caught somewhere between frustration and honest curiosity and David wanted to laugh at how his mood had turned around so quickly.

Maybe it was the head injury making him forget, or fatigue, or maybe just the fact that there was nobody else around to see him put up an act, but David wondered where the Max that had been blaming him went. That Max wasn't wrong, after all. This had been his fault.

"Max…" he shook his head. "I'm responsible for the safety of all my campers when they stay here. You're no exception. If you get hurt, that's on _me_. And I know you might have a hard time believing this, but I _do_ care."

"But _why?_"

"Because…"

Seeing the pure confusion in Max's glare, the imploring suspicion in his eyes, made him pause.

Why. Why what? Why did he care?

Why did he have to ask questions like that? Questions like those, especially from Max, hurt. Every time he asked something like that, David couldn't help but remember Parent's Day, how Max had been so adamant that the very people who had raised him hadn't been bothered to care where he ended up in camp. They hadn't cared… maybe they never had. Maybe that was why Max couldn't seem to grasp why somebody would be worried about him.

That thought along left David feeling like he'd been punched in the gut a couple dozen times even as anger flooded his veins. It was an emotion he was coming to terms with the complexities of the longer he was around Max and learned more about his life. He was furious, both with Max's parents and with the worldly circumstances that made Max sure that people couldn't possibly give a damn about him. It wasn't fair to him. He was only a child, for God's sakes! No ten year old should've been doubting their worth as much as Max had been from… probably the minute he'd first stepped off the bus.

It made him want nothing more than to wrap Max in his arms and hold onto him until he understood that there _were_ people in his life that wanted what was best for him- that wanted him to be happy, and that, if nothing else, _he_ cared about Max.

He cared about all his campers but Max… he hated picking favorites, but there was something about Max that was special. Maybe he was the only one who could see it, but that didn't change the truth of the matter. He only wished there was a way to get Max to see that, and to understand that even if his parents couldn't see him for the great kid he was, others could.

He saw him, and he cared.

David didn't think he would ever stop caring about him. Not while he was here, and not when he left, either- Jeez…

David blinked quickly when he felt tears spring up in his eyes.

God, when Max left, he was going to be devastated. What would it be like, for a child who didn't believe in their worth, going home to neglectful parents? What if he went home never realizing how special he was? What if he left and still didn't realize there were people who loved him?

It wasn't fair that Max didn't know any of that, and that if he ever heard any of those things aloud he wouldn't believe them.

No, affection like that didn't make it to Max without suspicion tainting it. Suspicion and several levels of awkwardness. But he couldn't not give Max a reason. If he let him hang like that, he would call him a liar and it would solidify in his mind just how much nobody cared about him. It wouldn't matter how untrue it was.

So, David avoided any of his usual "sappiness" and placed his hands on Max's shoulders instead, until green eyes met his and he took a deep breath.

"I care, because somebody. Fucking. Has to."

He didn't like to swear, but if there was one thing that broke through Max's cynicism regarding these topics, it was his decidedly rare use of foul language. Nothing seemed to register as truth more than vulgarity.

(That was one of those other things he sometimes thought about. He could've spent hours ranting to Gwen over the behaviors he guessed Max borrowed from certain relatives.)

But it wasn't just that, either. This was a sentiment which was familiar to the both of them, and one that he knew Max would immediately register as one of the sincerest forms of truth. Neither of them had forgotten the Order of the Sparrow incident, nor had they forgotten what he'd said to Max, the conviction with which he'd said it. Now that same tone, those same words, were being directed towards something else, and nobody could challenge the meaning. Not even Max.

On cue, Max blinks, any upset leaving his expression to be replaced by something unreadable. His gaze dropped to the floor and David could feel some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

"Oh." He said, soft and almost surprised, "Okay."

David nodded, satisfied that at least Max wasn't arguing or trying to deny his words with rants about how people were selfish self-serving jerks who didn't care about people unless there was something in it for them. He hated that kind of thinking.

After that, silence overtook the cabin once more. It wasn't tense, at least, if extremely tired. When Max looked at him after several minutes, David noted his eyes were drooping and he pushed away from the desk and clapped his hands together to make him up more. While he wanted nothing more than to let him sleep, he knew he couldn't risk letting him do that.

It was that thought that had him pulling up Gwen's chair over and grabbing a pack of cards from his desk. When he slipped them out, he asked Max if he was up for a round of Go Fish, to which Max only snorted at him.

"What? Afraid to have your ass kicked in poker?"

David laughed and shuffled the cards before dealing them for the game Max wanted.

"More afraid you're going to be a sore loser when I kick yours."

Max let out a short laugh and grabbed his hand off the desk, already looking for something of Gwen's to throw into the 'bet' pile that apparently consisted of bandaids, pain pills and medical tape.

"In your dreams!"

As they played and Max proved to him that even with a concussion he could, in fact, beat him, David couldn't help but hope that what he'd said got through to him. He certainly seemed more at ease, more willing to laugh (even if it was at his expense when he lost in a hand), and when he sent him his own smiles -the ones Max said made him look like a predator but David knew only made him uncomfortable because they were his "I'm proud of you" looks that Max couldn't believe- Max didn't glare at him.

Obviously nothing was going to be fixed by one heartfelt talk, but David wanted to believe that tonight would mark the beginning of Max's journey into accepting that just because own family didn't care did not mean that nobody did.


End file.
